


All In Good Time

by mrs_squirrel_chester



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Daddy Kink, Explicit Consent, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Gen, Rough Sex, insecure reader, plus size reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2016-12-15
Packaged: 2018-09-08 16:39:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8852362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrs_squirrel_chester/pseuds/mrs_squirrel_chester
Summary: John walks in while you are criticizing yourself in front of the mirror… naked.





	

_For[@deansdirtylittlesecretsblog](https://tmblr.co/mkkGfeRe6GdIwHJedHNHoAQ) Trope Challenge. I had insecure plus-size reader. _

* * *

Real beauty is on the inside. Pretty in an unconventional way. Not bad for a fat girl.

You had heard every single cliche in the book, and each one chipped away your already thin armor and made you hate yourself just a little bit more. Oh, you talked a good game, but they were just that, words. You didn’t actually mean it when you said you loved the curves that made it difficult to buy clothes.

Cellulite and stretch marks. Thick thighs and big breasts. Wide hips and a soft stomach. Your nose was crooked, one breast was slightly smaller than its partner, you couldn’t walk in heels to save your life; the list of imperfections was fucking endless.

So why were you standing in front of a mirror, bathrobe hanging open and pushed down on your shoulders, examining every inch of your naked body? Other than the fact you tossed back several shots too many after seeing all the Cindy Crawford and Heidi Klum look-a-like’s get all the attention? You were a glutton for punishment. Especially when it came to John Winchester.

You saw how women looked at him, swallowing thickly as their pupils dilated. How their body language changed, biting their bottom lip and pushing out their breasts as they conversed. How they would rest their hand on his wrist, scraping their polished nails through the dark hair that you know covered his chest and belly.  

You’d be lying if you said John wasn’t attractive, that you didn’t dream about him between your legs, making you cry out in pure bliss. You wanted it so bad that it hurt to see the interaction, so you made up a drinking game of sorts; one shot for every woman that hit on John. Which, in hindsight, wasn’t the brightest idea you’d ever had.

The door opened behind you and in walked John. Shrieking, you covered your breasts -but not before he got an eyeful- and yelled, “Don’t you fuckin’ know how to knock?”

His eyes went wide and he started to sputter, “I… you left… I thought you might’a hooked up with someone.”

It had to have been your imagination because he sounded like he was disappointed at the idea. “When have I ever hooked up with someone, John?”

One wide shoulder bobbed up subtly as he answered, “First time for everything.”

Fuck. That hurt more than it should have. You screwed your eyes shut at the sudden prickling of tears. “Can you please leave and shut the door?”

“What’s goin’ on with you, sweetheart?” he asked, voice softer than a moment ago.

You shook your head, eyes still clamped shut. “Nothing. I… I just want to be left alone.” _Stay. Stay and tell me I’m beautiful, John. Please._

John was behind you, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from his chest, but far enough away that he wasn’t touching you. “I’m not blind, woman, I know somethin’ is goin’ on.”

Hot tears broke through the weak defense of your closed eyelids. God, you felt fucking stupid. You were a hunter, had been since you were 16. You killed the things that went bump in the night, things that gave grown ass adults nightmares, and here you stood, crying because you didn’t feel pretty.

When John sighed, you knew that he realized what was going on. He dropped a kiss to your crown -which wasn’t outside the realm of normal- and rested his hands on your shoulders, calloused thumbs catching on your satin bathrobe as they swept back and forth. “Open your eyes, baby girl.”

Pulling in a ragged breath, you shook your head again. “No. I’ve seen it all before.”

It was the way he said please that made you oblige. The reflection of you and John was blurry and you blinked rapidly to clear the tears. “See? That wasn’t so difficult. Now, tell me what’s goin’ on in that pretty head a’yours.”

You rolled your eyes and scoffed. “It’s stupid.”

“It ain’t if it’s got you cryin’. Tell me, Y/N, I wanna know.”

Gnawing on the inside of your cheek, your eyes found his in the mirror. Your voice was small and shaking when you said, “I’m ugly and fat.”

Anger flashed across his features. “Who the fuck told you that nonsense?”

Again with rolling your eyes. “I’m not stupid, John. I see how people look at me. I know what they think of me.”

“Well I don’t think that!”

“You’re just sayin’ that bec-”

“No I ain’t. How long you been hunting with me?”

“Over ten years,” was your answer.

“And in that time have I ever said somethin’ just to indulge someone?”

“No, but-”

“But nothin’, sweetheart. You’re beautiful, every inch a’ya,” he sounded so sincere it made your throat go thick.

You didn’t feel 100% better about yourself like you thought you would, so you shrugged your shoulders. “Okay, fine.”

John’s hands slid down your arms and covered your smaller ones, squeezing them gently. “Can I show you something?” At his request, the breath you were pulling in hitched in your throat. You stared at him with wide eyes, gripping your robe even tighter.

“If you really want to, you can say no, Y/N. I won’t force you to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

He stood there, hands on yours, chest pressed to your back, and waited patiently for a handful of minutes until you swallowed thickly and nodded. It wasn’t that John had never seen you without your clothes on before, he had, it was part of the hunting territory. There were hundreds of gashes to stitch up and bones to reset. But tonight would be the first time he’d be seeing you 100% naked, and not because of a hunting related injury. John Winchester _asked_ and that made your heart thunder in your chest.

The satin fell away, pooling at your feet, and you fought the intense need to cover yourself by balling your hands into fists at your sides and biting your bottom lip. The roar of blood in your ears was so loud you almost missed it when he said, “Fuck, baby girl. You’re gorgeous.”

You blew out the air you were holding and looked at him like he’d sprouted a third eye in the middle of his forehead. “How much have you had to drink?”

Weathered knuckles ghosted along your sides before John gripped your hips, pulling you into him so that his belt buckle bit into your lower back. “I’m sober, baby.”

You didn’t want to believe him because there was no way a sober man would be talking to you this way. The rebuttal on the tip of your tongue disappeared when the unmistakable thick line of his hardening cock pushed into your ass.

John’s pupils were lust blown and he was staring at you like he wanted to devour you. “Let me touch you,” he pleaded, voice raspy with need. You couldn’t voice your consent, so you nodded, watching with wide eyes as his hands pulled away from your hips.

He started at your neck and jawline, fingertips grazing along your soft skin, pulling a small gasp from you. John’s hands had been on you many, many times; too many to count, but this was different. It was like a spark dancing on your skin, drawing goosebumps and sending a heated shudder down your spine before settling in the pit of your belly.

“You really have no idea, how utterly fucking gorgeous you are,” hot breath blew on the crook of your neck, his lips following a second later. His tongue was hot on your pulse point, laving the skin before his teeth sank into it. You weren’t one for being marked, but John could do whatever he wanted and you wouldn’t have a problem with it. One hand on your neck, he grabbed your breast, palming it and squeezing, twisting and pulling on the sensitive skin.

Your pert nipples rubbed against his palms and a whine bubbled in your throat as you rolled your hips back. Needing someplace to put your hands, you reached back and slipped your hands into the back pockets of his jeans, pulling him into you by his ass.

Looking at you through his lashes, he asked, “You like it when I touch you, baby girl?”

Part of you wanted to drop your head onto his shoulder, but the voyeuristic and experimental part wanted to watch every stroke of his fingers and every flick of his tongue. The voyeuristic side won. You licked your lips and squeezed your thighs together as your pussy ached for friction.

“Yes, daddy.”

John’s hips stopped rocking and his fingers dug painfully into your soft skin. “What’d you say?”

 _Shit!_ “I uh… I said yes, daddy.”

He growled so deep his chest vibrated against your back. “Say it again,” he demanded, eyes flashing in excitement.

 _Thank God._ You thought for sure he would have stopped because of your older man / daddy kink. When you obeyed, John rewarded you by scraping his nails through your short curls before cupping your dripping sex.

John’s mouth was on your earlobe, nipping at the flesh as his fingers became wet with your slick. “Fuck, baby. Is all this for me?”

You spread your legs to give his probing fingers ample room and rolled your hips against his cock. “Yes, daddy.”

John sneered before turning your head so he could kiss you, all tongues and teeth, whimpers and moans. Two long digits pushed into you, dragging through your wet heat agonizingly slow, almost as if he was trying to memorize the way you clamped onto him, the way your hips rolled, seeking more of his touch.

Tearing his mouth away, he groaned, pumping and scissoring his fingers deep into your cunt. “I want to watch you cum, sweetheart.”

Your chest was heaving as you panted, grinding onto his hand as he fucked you with it, his palm slamming into your throbbing clit, winding the coil deep in your belly even tighter. Needing to touch more of him, to give him a taste of what you were feeling under his ministrations, you quickly undid his belt, all but tore open his jeans, and shoved them down his hips. Your hand was in his boxer shorts before he could protest, not that you thought he would. His cock was thick and hot in your hand, the tip weeping in excitement. Smearing the pre-cum along the shaft, you started pumping him. It wasn’t the most comfortable way to jerk him off, but who the fuck cared!

His cock pulsed in your palm at the same time that he curled his fingers, seeking for, and immediately finding your sweet spot. “Fuck, daddy… y- yes. I’m…nnngggg…”

“Come on, baby. Show me what your tight little pussy can do.”

He was basically assaulting your cunt, fingers frantically fucking you, filling the room with the obscenely wet sucking sounds of sex. “So fucking tight. Fuck, baby. Come on, baby girl, cum for daddy,” he pleaded, voice deeper than you had ever heard.

You came with a strangled shout of his name, throwing your head back to his shoulder and squeezing his cock so tight he hissed sharply. The orgasm was like nothing you’d ever experienced before; like your nerve endings had been seared by lava, like your clit was going to explode, but John didn’t stop, not until your cum was dripping off his entire hand.

“You made a mess, baby girl,” he admonished playfully.

Feeling more like a ragdoll than a person, you sagged against him, humming contentedly while you continued to stroke him, blushing at the slick between your thighs. John’s hips jerked as your nails scraped along the thick vein on the underside of his cock. You opened your eyes and watched as he sucked your cum from his fingers.

He arched a dark eyebrow before asking, “You want a taste, don’cha?” Before you could answer, John smeared your cum on your lips, moaning heavily when your eyes rolled back and your tongue darted out, slurping up every last drop.

“You know what else I want?” you inquired while pushing down his boxer briefs.

“Tell me,” he commanded through gritted teeth.

Feeling so much more confident than you were less than 10 minutes ago, you stepped away from John and over to the counter. Before he could ask what you were doing, you bent over, sucking in a breath when your breasts pressed into the cool ceramic, and wiggled your ass. “I want you to fuck me, daddy.”

John’s cock twitched painfully at the sight of your plump ass, thick thighs, and leaking cunt. He ripped off his shirt and stepped out of his boxer briefs and jeans before taking his place behind you. “Ain’t nothing gonna be slow and sweet about this, baby girl.”

Looking over your shoulder, you watched through hooded lids as he stroked himself. It was the first time you had seen his cock and while part of you wasn’t surprised at how thick and long he was, the other part of you wondered if you could take all of him. “I don’t care. Just fuck me until I can’t remember my own fucking name,” you whined pitifully, shimmying your hips as if to prove your point.

The wide head of his cock drug through your dripping folds and it was all you could do to keep from pushing back. You gripped the edge of the counter in anticipation and held your breath while you waited for John to continue.

“You didn’t say please,” he teased, chuckling low in his throat.

Looking over your shoulder again, you rolled your hips so that just the head pushed in. “Please fuck me, daddy.”

Weathered hands on both your hips, John gnawed on his bottom lip as he entered you. Your eyes rolled back at the pleasurable sting as you stretched around him, pulsing in an effort of sucking him deeper. John blew out a ragged breath when the short hairs surrounding his cock bit into your ass. Never had you been so full, it took your breath away and made every inch of you pulse in time with his heart, in time with the thick vein that was beating against your walls.

John cursed, dragging the word out before offering praises, “I wish you could see what I see, baby girl. Your pussy taking my cock so well. Fuck, baby, so goddamn tight.”

You wanted to say something, anything, but you were too busy relishing in the overwhelming fullness that burned through every muscle and oozed from every pore. John started slow, pulling out and pushing in, the heavy drag of his cock sending you closer to the edge.

But it didn’t last long, he meant it when he said it wouldn’t be slow and sweet. He snapped his hips in tight controlled thrusts, sending your hips into edge of the counter, adding a little bit of pain to the pleasure, but it only added gasoline to the fire. You were begging him to fuck you, “Harder and faster. Come on, daddy.”

He would answer with a sneer or a growl, calling you his, “Good little girl,” and praising the way your tight cunt took every inch of him.

With your hands against the wall, you used it as leverage, pushing back against him so that his balls hit your clit with a wet slap, accompanied by the thick _squelch_ of your pussy with every drag of his cock. You were close, so fucking close, just needed a new angle. Pushing to your tiptoes gave you what you needed. The curved end of his cock brushed over your sweet spot again and again, relentlessly until you couldn’t breathe.

John grabbed your shoulders and yanked you back, grinding out, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, that’s it, baby girl. Cum for daddy.”

Bursts of white exploded behind your eyes and static burst in your ears as you came, squeezing his cock until his balls went tight and his hips faltered. “Come on, daddy,” you whispered harshly.

He gripped your shoulders and pumped his hips erratically, muttering a string of curses and praises under his breath, until finally, he came. Even as his cock swelled and pulsed, as he kept thrusting, drawing out the orgasm as long as he could, filling you with his sticky cum until it was leaking from your cunt and rolling down your thighs.

John dropped kisses to your shoulders and the back of your neck, grimacing and hissing when he pulled out. You stayed plastered to the counter, whining at the loss of his softening cock and gasping at the pheromone-laced air.

“Stay there, baby girl,” he whispered, dragging his hand down your back and swatting your ass as he stepped away. He turned on the shower, checking the temperature before coming back for you. He chuckled low when he found you still lying on the counter, just like he told you to.

“What’s so funny, Winchester?” you asked, your voice croaking from screaming his name like a fucking mantra mere moments ago.

John helped you up from the counter, holding you steady against his side as your legs wobbled, threatening to take you to the floor. “Not a goddamn thing. I’m just glad you’re finally doin’ what I want.”

The ceramic tub was slick, but John’s hands on your hips and elbow kept you steady. “What you want, huh? Is there anything else I should be doin’?”

He shielded your eyes as you tipped your head back under the stream of water. “All in good time, sweetheart.”


End file.
